A Class-Class B

A class-Class B
Speed, madness and flying saucers
Certainly sums it all up today
A class-class B, you will see
Has me carefully climbing up the wired tree
And my fish tank and films, music and the writing of this
Are all there is to distract me from the kiss
Of this itchy feet feeling that I only have inside
But on this hour there's nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.
Robotics are creeping in with the afternoon clouds
And it's all I can do to think out aloud
I can't hear for the spiraling thoughts
Crazy time in bags sold and bought
But a sense of control is inside
Somewhere deep in there it hides
Crazy rhymes lost and found
And they are gone forever when I hit the ground.
Today's military escapades are all around the globe
Just another country and culture to prod and probe
But that really means nothing to me today
For this moment is the one thing for which I pray
An instance of insane clarity rears it's only head
Every now and then you realise what your brain just said
And the fleeting moment sticks solid and fast
But how long will that really, truly ever last.
Catch me if you can and I'll show you the truth
I'll show you dimensions however brief and aloof
To help you understand that nothing is quite what it seems
Unfolding before your eyes it'll conquer all of our screams
Just because something appears finite today
Tomorrow it may not be the same as its original way
Our dreams can overcome all doubts and all fears
If we only let them journey across all of our years.
So today I'm in an altered state of my mind
I'm looking across seconds and decades to find
A lost part of my core being which, when all is said and done
Will bring it all back inside and make me feel at one
With all that is real and all that is simply fair
And the loss of a few brain cells for this do I care?
For the speed, madness and flying saucers are all around me
And for a few fleeting moments I can really, truly see.
A class-class b setting me temporarily and chemically free
Allowing questions to form and find their own answers in me
Discussing the disgusting and slowly but surely realising
That it is I who have been blindly and foolishly compromising
These days in my own little disturbing black sheep of a life
I seem to have been making a come back; I will be rife
Everything is possible and possibility is everywhere
It's no good these days relying on your Sunday prayer.
Copyright-Noel Roche 1/2/06